


A Day in the Life

by CaraLee



Series: Fantasy AU [3]
Category: DCU, Green Arrow (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Wonder Woman (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, And You Can't Have Culture Without People, Because This is Exploring Culture, Donna Just Wants to Meet People Who Aren't A Hundred Years Older Than Her, Gen, Oliver Queen is a Dork, Only Roy Harper can make his chapter in a fluff story depressing, Some Background OCs - Freeform, Themyscira, a day in the life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraLee/pseuds/CaraLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five children. Five lands. Many cultures. Different lives. And yet some things are the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prince, Archer, Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Roi, adopted heir of Olivier, king of the Western Coast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruadh/Roi and Garth are 16  
> Wally is 14  
> And Dika and Demostrate are 12
> 
> Dika has been Robin since he was eight, Roi has been (as yet unnamed sidekick) since he was 14, Wally since he was 13, Garth for a few months and Dema...Well, she was raised by Amazons so...But she hasn't made a public debut yet.

**Royal Palace, City of the Star, The Western Coast**

Ruadh was awakened by the near-silent sounds of one of his personal attendants tending the fire in his room. She was a pretty girl, probably a year or two younger than his own six winters and ten. Very pretty. Probably what Oli was thinking when he gave the major domo instructions for assigning someone for her position. (And from the way she moved she would take no nonsense from anyone, no matter who they were. Probably Dinah’s input.)

The sun was just beginning to break over the horizon and Ruadh groaned and rolled over as the girl left, forcing himself out from underneath the many, fine coverings laid over his bed. Only a little more than a year and he was already becoming soft. It was hard to be enthusiastic about the day ahead though. He knew the majority would be spent either going over matters of state with Olivier (Dinah) or trapped in a room with one of his blasted tutors. He dunked his head into the washbasin and stared forlornly at the polished silver mirror beside the wardrobe. As far as he was concerned, the evening could not come swiftly enough.

***

Ruadh managed to make it to the very doors of the sunroom where the royal family breakfasted. Unfortunately, he ran into Dinah there. The queen-to-be took one look at him in his breeches and shirtsleeves, Ivor's wolf skin thrown over his shoulder, and pointed back the way he came. "You are not a child, Roi. You know what appropriate dress is."

Ruadh knew the expression he was making was remarkably childish but couldn't bring himself to care. "But it itches and its not like anyone in there cares."

Dinah looked slightly sympathetic but unmoving. "Consider it practice for the times when you have no choice." She gestured at her full skirts and her restraining bodice. "I do. It's the only way I can stand this cursed thing."

Ruadh blinked, feeling distinctly surprised. He'd never received any indication that she was anything but comfortable, whether she was Lady Dinah or The Canary.

She gave him a sardonic look. "I can't lift my arms any higher than my ribs." She said dryly. "And considering the number of assassination attempts Oli is victim of, it is hardly my favorite situation to be in. Now go."

With a groan, Ruadh trudged back down the hall, his fingers clenched on the edge of the wolf-skin. He knew he should be grateful. Hell's bells, he _was_. There was no reason for a king to take in a twice-orphaned "savage," let alone adopt him as his son and heir. And yet despite that, Ruadh missed the lands where he had grown up. The mountains and their mists, the smoke of the peat fires in the cold nights, the woad-streaked war parties, hunting wild cats and deer in the forests.

He knew, in his head, that Oli's people were his people but he had been no more than a babe in arms when his born-father had taken him and abandoned the coastal kingdom and fled into the Northern wilds, wrought with grief over the death of his wife, Ruadh's mother. Roi the Harper, Ruadh's father, had been...not welcomed...but aided by the Clans. Even those thought of as barbarians by the great civilizations around them had an appreciation for tales and music. Ruadh had vague memories of those early days, wandering the wilds, from clan-hearth to clan-hearth, the faint sounds of his born-father's harpstrings. He thinks his born-father had brown hair, his own flame-red must have come from his mother.

When his born-father had died in his fourth summer, Ivor of the Brave Bow had taken him into his hearth. That was when he became Ruadh, leaving his Western born-name behind him. He'd thought it for good. (The Clans believed it was ill luck to bear the names of the dead.)

And then Ivor had died and for a little more than a year he had been the camp-child, belonging to no one. It would have been harder were he not so skilled a hunter, even at only thirteen summers. He nearly always had something to trade for a few days of shelter. (It was a hard life. Even born-kin had to pull their weight, let alone an outsider.)

He still doesn't know exactly why Oli was in the Northern wilds but he had come across him, injured and cornered by an angry bear. Mere days later, a stunned Ruadh had found himself southward bound, clutching his bow tight, his small bundle of belongings bound to the same pack horse as the fresh-tanned bearskin. (It is ironic, that Ruadh gained manhood only to be taken from the People. To kill either a wolf or a bear is to prove yourself a man, with the right to a hearth of your own.)

Instead of being able to build a hut and truly become a part of the Clan, he was taken by a man with a strange, straw-gold beard who alternated between chattering at him like a squirrel in a language that Ruadh understood only a few words of and brooding in the depths of his ragged green hood in a way that made Ruadh wary.

After four days of hard riding their surroundings had changed from tangled thickets, craggy mountains, and scattered camps to more cultivated lands. There were still mountains and forests but there were also walled cities, irrigated fields, and gardens and orchards where the trees formed perfectly ordered, unnaturally straight lines that would offer little by way of concealment.

Every so often, the man in the green hood (as Ruadh had taken to calling him at the time) would stop to speak to a traveler or farmer. Ruadh never understood more than a handful of the most basic words but by watching those interactions he'd learned what he'd guessed (correctly) were their greeting customs. Most of the time he would stay back from the conversation, wrapped tightly in Ivor's wolf-skin that he had inherited and always wore in those days, the scent and weight familiar and comforting. It also helped him avoid the curious and wary looks he had received. (And sometimes still did.) But nothing could block out the whispers that he had not needed to know the language to understand.

He had not known who Oli was until the day after the night they had arrived at the palace, which had been bustling with a sort of frenzied activity that Ruadh had later learned was because their king had abolished slavery by transforming it to an indenture system patterned after Atlantis' and then disappeared for nearly two weeks. (Why, exactly, has still not been made clear. It probably had something to do with Lord Merlynn)

He had quickly learned of Oli's tendency to vanish and run off on some hare-brained adventure, leaving the care of his people in the hands of his mother, Princess Dowager Marion, until she was assassinated in the seventh month of Ruadh's life with them. He hadn't cared much for the woman, who despised him and made it very clear, but Oli had been devastated and Ruadh does not know what would have become of the kingdom if it wasn't for Dinah.

He wriggles into the brocaded jerkin that is considered essential here and makes a face at the abrasive threads against the skin of his lower arms. Oli had first met Dinah as The Green Archer meeting The Canary, but shortly after that Lady Dinah and her mother had returned to the Western Coasts for the first time since the death of her father, Sir Pascal de Lance. They had spent the previous five years or so living in the elder Lady Dinah's family home on Gotham Island in the East. Their return had been not more than three weeks after the death of the Queen-Mother and no more than three days before Dinah was acting chatelaine. And it had been plain for all to see, as clearly as that ridiculous beard, that King Olivier was smitten.

Nearly a year later and the entire kingdom was in the midst of preparations for the royal wedding. Mostly, Ruadh just hopes that they will have their own sons soon, so that he can leave Crown Prince Roi behind him and simply be. Whether as Roi or Ruadh he does not care.

***

He is late to breakfast and uncomfortable in the stiff trousers and heavy jerkin, fidgeting with the ridiculous half-cape that comes from the shoulders. He wonders if Robin knows that the Western nobility wear capes even smaller and more silly than his. Probably, the irritating little brat seems to know everything about everyone, while almost no one knows anything about him or The Bat.

Dinah's mother is forcing Olivier to discuss the day's schedule with her as Dinah serenely passes Ruadh a plate of the sad little things that Ruadh would trade a box of for one good, solid wheat-cake, followed by a bowl of fruit to eat them with. Ruadh gives a grudging thanks and takes a vicious bite, doing his best to ignore Olivier's sulking on the other side of the table.

Oli hates court days. He argues that he learns more about the problems of his people in one night on patrol as The Green Archer than he does in a month of court days where he listens to various nobles who want to complain about money.

Ruadh doesn't feel sorry for him, he is meeting with his etiquette tutor today. Oli can go jump off the cliff.

***

Ruadh will swear on his born-father's grave that his etiquette tutor is a magician who can slow time. No other three hours of his week ever lasts so long. As soon as the odious man leaves Ruadh wastes no time in stripping down to his shirtsleeves and climbing out the window. It is only a short walk to the stables and Ruadh ignores the looks he gets from the various persons he encounters on the way. None of them dare stop him and that is all he cares about. Siofra is in her stall and he doesn't bother with her heavy saddle, merely slipping on the bridle and coaxing the bit between her teeth. He swings up onto her and urges her into a trot heading out of the stable, he can hear people jumping out of their way but merely urges her onward.

The Palace, though well-defensible, is not far from an open field and that is where Ruadh goes to ride off the numbness his mind has slipped into over the past hours.

He has another hour or so before one of Dinah's retainers comes to inform him that his presence is required at the midday meal. By this time, both he and Siofra are soaked in sweat and he considers the benefits of simply showing up to the meal as he is. He decides that only Oli would be that sort of suicidal and reluctantly turns Siofra over to a groom to be watered and cooled off before rushing up to his rooms to bathe and change.

Lunch is made awkward by the presence of an ambassador from one of the Metros Empire's protectorates, a man who reminds Ruadh as nothing so much as a bullfrog and calls him "Prince Ru-ey", drawing the first syllable out so long that Ruadh thinks he has a stutter the first time he says it. Olivier looks like he is considering putting an arrow through the man just to shut him up by the time they get to the fourth dish and he still has not stopped talking once, not even when there is food in his mouth. Dinah looks like she wouldn't scold Oli too much.

The elder Lady Dinah looks like she won't give Oli the chance to put an arrow through him because she'll get there first and Ruadh is abruptly reminded of the fact that the well-spoken, elegant lady seated across from him was the first Canary and fought alongside other guardians in a time when there was but one other woman who did such things, and she a fae. He also remembers the many occasions he has heard her verbally destroy some idiot and suffer no loss in negotiations, only to have it graciously waved off afterwards because she "is of the House Drakon, after all." Whatever that means. (Oli says it means that she is scary, a wolf in sheep's clothing.)

No blood is spilt except Olivier's though, and that because he'd clenched his fist on the wrong end of his knife while holding in his temper. Ruadh pokes at his roast swan and wishes dearly for the evening to come soon.

***

After lunch and rest is spent training, which Ruadh would enjoy more if it was "real" training. Charging on horseback at a tiny hoop with a long stick is pointless, made occasionally painful by the noblemen's sons who are also taking the lessons from the Royal horse-master. It could be worse though, at least Master Raibert likes Ruadh (because he isn't an idiot) and one of the other boys is halfway decent. Sadly, all the young nobles his age seem to have agreed to be the most insufferable group of fops he has ever met, making him desperately wish he were a couple of years younger or older. Most of those boys are more than half-way decent.

He is good at the rings, his impeccable aim serving him well, and Siofra is, if possible, better than he, so while it is far from his favorite thing to do, the early evening is by no means so agonizing as was the morning. And once Siofra has been returned to her stall and an attendant has carried of his training armor he is able to make his way to the hidden door in the wine-cellar, where Oli is already waiting for him.

"Suit up." His mentor says with a grin, already overshadowed by the green hood. "We have much to do tonight."

Ruadh grins back and shoulders his quiver.


	2. Princess, Amazon, Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Demostrate, second princess of Themyscira

**Royal Palace, Themyscira**

Demostrate rose from her couch long before the morning bell rung. Perhaps it was childish, but her anticipation had left her unable to rest easy all night. Outside she could hear the muffled clatter of the changing of the guard mixed with the cry of seabirds over the cliffs. She threw on a lightweight exomis, there was still a chill in the air but that would not bother her for long.

Dema’s chambers were on the ground level of the palace so it was only a simple matter of a low drop from the balcony onto the damp sand and short jog to the cliff-face before she could begin to climb, she shivered in the morning air and gripped the rocks.

The cliff was a sheer drop from the top, where rested the great temple, to the base, which met the water and jagged rocks of the surf. There was no real reason for Dema to climb the face, a road on the land-side went right to the very gates of the temple, leaving aside Dema’s ability to fly.

But as her mother, the queen, often said, it was not where you were going that mattered so much as how you got there, and Dema loved climbing the cliff; the strain it afforded and the satisfaction of attaining the top. There was just enough light to safely climb, if Dema followed one of her well-known and familiar ways to the top instead of seeking out a new one. The stone was softly grey in the dawning, the edges softened and the sparse patches of vegetation rustled in the breeze like the spears of an army on the march.

By the time she reached the ledge that was more-or-less halfway she was no longer shivering and strands of her hair were stuck to her neck, damp and sticky with perspiration. A strong hand gripped hers and helped her to hoist herself onto the ledge.

“Sister.” Dema acknowledged, panting ever so slightly from the exertion.

Diana smiled down at her and gestured to the bench-like stone set apart from the rock. “Well met, little sister.”

Dema dropped to sit. “Well met indeed, I am sorry I was not able to be there when you returned from Man’s World last night.”

Diana sat beside her with a laugh. “’Twas no great thing you missed. The greater part was merely the delivery of greetings and messages from the kings and rulers of men to our mother.”

“I missed you though.” Dema said mournfully, leaning against the older woman, her damp and crumpled exomis pressing close to Diana’s clean-pressed chiton. “You are so often in Man’s World these days. There is little time for us to talk as we once did.”

Diana’s arm was a comforting weight around her shoulders, chasing away the chill that had begun to creep over her skin since she had stopped climbing. "That will change after today."

Dema gave in to the temptation to snuggle closer like a child and ask the question she always asked when Diana returned home. "What is Man's World like?"

Her sister hummed thoughtfully. "It is...different. There is more coming and going, in the Empire at least, and less isolation for the greater part. It is also not so different." Dema looked up to see her smiling down. "There is family and foe, peace and war, joy and grief, as there is here. Something I have learned from Man's World is that man or woman, people are still people and everyone has something they can learn from others.

"Sometimes," Dema hesitated, "Sometimes I think that I remember Man's World. I remember the fire but...before that, I sometimes get these scattered images that cannot be anything here in Themyscira."

"What manner of images?" Diana's voice was worried.

"Good ones," Dema reassured her. "A woman I believe to have been my mortal mother is in most of them. I always feel safe and loved."

Diana sighed and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Forgive me, my sister. I do not enjoy any reminder of the hard years 'ere you came to us."

"But I am here now." Dema said quietly. "As your bond sister and now, sister in arms."

"After today," Diana smiled and pulled her close. "Little sister, yes we shall be."

Dema smiled up at her. "Tell me of your friends, please."

Diana laughed. "You do not wish to wait and meet them for yourself?" Dema shook her head and Diana acquiesced. "There are many who I fight beside in the League. Lady Shayera is a valiant warrior of the Thanagarians. She and her mate are fierce and love war, as do all their people, but they understand the true value of peace.

The Canary is also a mighty warrior, as any mortal who faces the Elder Darkness must be. She is gentle as well, and has taught me much on how to care for the minds and emotions of those we assist, and not merely protect their bodies.

The Knight of Steel is one of our leaders. He is a warrior such as shall be sung about a thousand years hence, but he is also a simple man, who wishes no more than to defend this world and those who dwell upon it, whether mortal or fae."

Diana paused, looking thoughtful. "And then there is The Bat." Dema shivered and Diana rubbed her shoulder gently. "Even here on Themyscira's shores, his name has been heard, if only in whispers."

Dema nodded, "Eudokia says that The Bat is a Daemon, separated from the Darkness of the Black Islands, that preys upon its own kind."

Diana chuckled. "So many believe, and it suits his purpose that they do so. In truth, he is a mortal, a man, who faces impossible odds and emerges triumphant. He pretends to care for nothing and no one," she said softly. "But he does so to try and hide that he truly cares deeply. Deeper than any other I have ever met."

***

They stayed on the ledge, watching the sunrise until the morning horn was sounded. Flying down was not as satisfying as climbing but they had places to be and today was _not_ the day to be late.

They broke their fast with bowls of honeyed yogurt and peaches before Dema left her sister in the hall and hurried off to the bath chamber reserved for the royal family and commanders.

The process that she usually found relaxing only served to make her nervous as the attending slaves moved with their usual deliberate pace and all Dema could think of was the ceremony that was to come. There were only a few others there, an archer and her sister, and they remained on the other side of the rooms. She was bouncing on her toes as she exited the Laconia and made her way to the benches where her clothes waited.

"Peace, Little Princess." Eudokia, the elderly slave who served as her caretaker chided, running a fine comb through Dema's wet hair. "It matters not whether we hurry or no, high noon will come no sooner."

Dema sighed and sunk a few increments further onto the couch, aware she was pouting and finding it hard to care. "But I don't want to wait. I've been waiting for two years!"

Eudokia laughed and dripped just a few drops of perfumed oil into Dema's hair, combing it in. "And if you have managed for that long, surely a mere five hours is nothing."

Dema sulked and stared at the basin in front of her, before Eudokia's wrinkled face intruded on her view and a gentle finger lifted her chin to look Eudokia in the eyes. "There is no need for distress, honeybee. This day has been long coming. You have fairly won your right to stand among the warriors of Themyscira."

"Will you be there?" Dema asked, seizing upon the thought that suddenly crossed her mind.

Eudokia chuckled, a low, warbling sound and returned to combing and pinning Dema's hair. "These old, mortal feet are in no shape for standing ship-board, my Princess. But I shall hear the horns of the Royal Guard and be glad." She placed one last comb and stepped back. “There. All finished. You must make haste.” She gathered up the supplies. “You have not much time to dress yourself.”

“Oh!” Dema took off, flying down the hall and through the courtyard, followed by Eudokia’s admonishment to be careful not to muss her hair.

***

Rather than the amphitheater, or the Great Courtyard, the usual locations for ceremonies, it had been decided after much passionate debate between Queen Hippolyta and Diana that Dema’s commissioning was to be held on board the royal warship. After all, Diana had said, if Dema would be accompanying her into Man’s World, it was good that at least one Man should be witness. And no man could set foot on the shores of Themyscira.

With everything else happening, Dema almost missed her first opportunity to catch a glance of the man who had won the right to a place in her sister’s heart, but one look and she near forgot all else. When Diana said his hair was golden like sunshine Dema had not quite believed her. There were light-haired Amazons but even Thracia’s hair seemed dull in comparison. For a moment she stood, dumbly staring up at the first man she had seen in the span of her memory.

He smiled down at her, warm laughter crinkling the edges of his pale blue eyes, and knelt so that he was on a level with her. “You may touch it, if you wish.” His voice was deeper even than Dema’s mother’s. Cautiously, she reached out one hand and brushed her fingers against the short golden strands. They were much finer than she had expected, like sun-dyed silk and almost uncomfortably warm from him standing in the sun.

As she retracted her hand he caught it in one of his own, his skin an unnaturally fair shade emphasized by her own olive tone. He lifted her hand to his forehead, turning his kneeling posture from that of a man humoring a child to that of a warrior swearing an oath. “I am Steffan of Trefmawr, Princess. Commander in the Imperial Rangers Intelligence Corp. It is truly an honor.”

Dema flushed red and tried to find her tongue. She was saved by her sister. “Commander, this is my younger sister, Demostrate.”

“The lady of the hour.” The commander lifted her hand once more, this time to his lips, before releasing it and standing to salute, fist over his heart. “As I said, an honor. I look forward to fighting beside you.” He winked at her and Dema blushed all over again.

Diana punched the commander in the arm. “Steffan,” she hissed at him as Dema became aware of her mother’s eyes on them. The commander raised his hands, his laughter no longer silent, but audible chuckles.

“Hey, I can’t help that I am so charming.”

Diana snorted before drawing herself up as the dignified warrior and princess she was. “Are you ready Dema?”

Dema swallowed and nodded. The commander drew back to stand off to the left-hand side of Queen Hippolyta’s dias.

Her elder sister turned to face their mother and the Commanders beside her. “Queen of us all, protector of Themyscira, I come before you today.”

“For what reason do you come before us?” The Queen asked regally.

“I bring with me my sister,” Dema took a deep breath and stepped up beside Diana. “She has proven herself worthy to bear arms by the traditions of the Amazons and I ask that I may take her, to train her to uphold our principles and to be an ambassador to the World of Men.”

“You ask to take a youngling from the haven of our shores.” Their mother says gravely, and even though the entire ceremony is scripted, Dema’s heart beats faster. “Into the dangers of Man’s World, where not even our most vaunted warriors seek to tread. What cause have I to grant this request?”

“To show that Man’s World is not to be feared.” Diana replied boldly, her voice ringing over the deck of the ship. “To show, both to our people and to theirs, that we may once again fight side by side and to bridge the gap between man and woman. I have sworn myself to this mission, and my sister seeks to do the same. She is worthy, she is ready, she is able.”

“So we have witnessed.” Akantha, captain of the royal guard and one of Dema’s trainers said. “The girl is able.” The other Commanders agreed and Eudane, the high priestess, nodded gravely.

Queen Hippolyta turned to the attendant beside her, who bore a cushion covered in a light drapery that fluttered in the sea-wind. “Then, as she goes forth as an Amazon warrior, she must be armed as befits an Amazon warrior.” Her visage softened ever so slightly. “And as befits my daughter.” Dema’s breath caught in her throat as her mother beckoned her forward, the glint of metal in her hands.

She knelt before the dias and her mother fastened the bracers around her wrists before turning back to the cushion and lifting from it a golden lasso. “You have taken upon yourself a grave responsibility my daughter.” Her mother said, “To take up these bracelets and this lasso is to declare yourself an Amazon. To proclaim that you stand for truth and justice for all. The eyes of all the world shall be upon you.” She paused. “Do you accept this charge.”

Dema’s nervousness faded away beneath a strong surety. “I do.”

“So you have spoken, so shall it be.” The Queen said solemnly. “Diana, daughter of Hippolyta, we give to you Demostrate, daughter of Hippolyta as your student. Teach her well and guard her until such time as she is able to guard herself.”

“I accept this charge.” Diana said evenly, “And swear myself to this service.”

“Go.” Their mother said, and Dema was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Their mother loved them dearly and was seldom so formal as was necessary for the ceremony, but she was not overly emotional either. “May the sun shine upon your faces and the wind be at your backs.”

Eudane gave a few blessings that Dema barely heard, and that was that.

Upon the completion of the ceremonies, as the Royal Guard sounded their horns and the others broke up into smaller groups, Dema’s mother descended from her dias and came down to wrap Dema in her arms. “My little girls.” She said softly. “All grown up.”

Dema leaned back far enough to look into her mother’s eyes. There were more tears, but also smiles. A gentle, sword-calloused hand stroked her cheek. “I am so proud of you. Both of you.”

***

They did not linger long after that. The Man Commander clearly held back as long as he could but the tides wait for no man or Amazon and soon Dema was flying over the water behind her sister as the elder woman bore the Commander in her arms to his ship, anchored just beyond the bay.

As they set foot on the wooden planks of the deck, all the cheerful joking mannerisms that the Commander had maintained through the short flight melted away and he began barking orders at his men, the bustle of a ship deck seeming strange to Dema as men scaled the riggings and manned the oars and slowly, Themyscira grew smaller on the horizon.

“We shall journey most of the day with them.” Diana said softly. “But we have an appointment to keep at sunset.”

Dema grinned. Maybe she could make some friends of her own.


End file.
